The Man Behind the Monster
by Sabsz
Summary: Once again, Hannibal comes to the rescue of Clarice. Clarice realizes that perhaps there may be reason behind his actions. Now, they live a life in Tuscany, happily ever after or not?  [A series of oneshots]
1. The Man Behind the Monster

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Expect my two agents that Hannibal kills. Happy reading.

**The Man Behind the Monster**

_By xxsabsz_

The former Special Agent Clarice Starling's eyes fluttered open to catch the mass of white that her groggy brain registered to be a high ceiling with carvings of celestial beings etched into the marble. Her eyes moved from the white ceiling and onto the walls that were clothed in beige wallpaper with a flora design drawn onto. The bed her body laid upon was incredibly soft and the pillows silky. The comforter was drawn around her porcelain body that was tinted bronze from the Italian sun, and she found it difficult to move. Moving her eyes and head to the left, a night table stood, with an expensive lamp on top. The draw was open and she saw letters addressed to herself. She was puzzled by this and Clarice moved her head to the left. The bed had curtains lining the outside and the ones on the right were drawn closed. They were an off white and contained a little transparency and she caught forms of objects outside the bed. Clarice made out a dresser towards the door and a small, perhaps mahogany, coffee table that was neat. A candle laid a top and popular magazine lie neatly, stacked in a pile in the corner. Moving more to the left, Clarice inhaled sharply. A maroon armchair to match the brilliance of the man's eyes that was resting in it. Despite the murkiness of the room that was filtered behind the curtains, she could make out those brilliant maroon eyes. He was gazing out the window which streaks of sunlight leaked through and made his eyes glitter pinpoints of red. A book lay closed on his lap but Clarice could not quite make it out. The man had such sharp features, and his obvious muscle was still evident of his rather intimidating frame.

Hannibal Lecter was merely feet away and Clarice did not feel fear. A serial killer, a monster, a man not even worthy of life sat in an arm chair and appeared human. She watched him and struggled to muffle moans of pain that would interrupt his gazing. Clarice Starling was still groggy and her memories were somewhat clouded by the morphine. Despite her stripped of her rank and her movement to Rome, a gun always laid at her belt. Something that made her feel rather confident. Her hand moved down to her waist where a cold flash of steel ought to be but instead her hand caught the warm flesh of her thigh. She gasped sharply to realize that her body was only clothed by the comforter and sheets that lay on top of her. The previous day's events came to her mind suddenly. She was being followed, she was absolutely sure of that. Clarice cursed them silently and tried to lose them in the labyrinth of Roman street. The men could not be shaken. She was certain that the FBI was following her, they thought she knew where Dr. Hannibal Lecter was, but they were wrong. She was looking for him too. _I whirled around to face them, their faces twisted into looks of shock. I scream at them. Goddamn. I remember those bastards look of disgust. No, I was not Dr. Hannibal Lectors whore. No, I did not screw him and no, I did not know where that monster was!_ She winced at those last words. Because gazing at him now, she could not see the monster behind the man. She only saw the man. She closed her eyes and struggled to remember more. _I remember moving my hand to my belt, to get a cigarette. God, that disgusting habit put me into this goddamn situation. They thought I was reaching for a gun that I had on my right side on the belt. They shot me. _

"I'm glad to find that you are awake, Clarice. Sleep well?" Dr. Lecter's voice was just how she remembered it. So silky, so calm, he always liked to focus on her name. He liked to say it, he told her that once. Clarice remained silent and she wasn't actually sure why. "Well, I hope so. Would you like me to draw open the curtains, Clarice? I drew them closed for your privacy." Lector continued.

"Yes, please." Clarice managed, it was painful, the wound. She turned her head to examine it. Careful, neat stitches were etched on to her flesh. This wasn't the first time he had saved her life and possible incarnation. Her heart quickened as the curtains parted and she actually _saw _him.

Silver hair that was still kept short. His brilliant eyes of maroon were still so inquisitive, so mysterious. His skin was still white but not pale and he seemed so alive, so healthy. The muscles were still evident on his rather intimating frame and he still had that kind, rather gentle smile. Not the smile of a killer, Clarice couldn't help notice that. She remembered that video she saw when Dr. Lecter had attacked that nurse. The two men, the one in the room and one in that asylum couldn't be more different. This man seemed almost kind and almost compassionate. He was first to break the silence that was in no way awkward.

"That's better, isn't it, Clarice? Do you remember what happened last night?"

"Slightly. I was shot. That bastard Agent shot me. Then that's all I remembered. They think I'm your whore and that I knew where you were. And I told them to go fuck themselves. I doubt that man's alive now, knowing you, Dr. Lecter."

He seemed amused, his lips turning into a smile ad he nodded. "Oh yes, Agent Walker did die. Shortly after you were shot, as did Agent Simpson. However, let's not speak of the morbid."

Clarice sat up and held the covers close to her body. Her clothes were most likely blood soaked and Dr. Lector had no other choice. She looked out the great window and noticed wonderfully elegant buildings with gorgeous verandas with beige stone lining the outside. She couldn't see much but from what she saw, she knew she was residing in Hannibal Lecters house and not a hotel. The exact locations were still unknown to Clarice Starling. He returned back to the armchair and she couldn't help notice how attractive he was in the sunlight.

"Where are we? Where did you take me, Lector?" Her words were sharp, she knew he had saved her life, again and had killed men for her. But she was left in the dark and Clarice hated being left in the dark. _Where are we, Hannibal? Where were you all this time? _

"Tuscany, my dear Clarice. No need to grow frantic. I live here; I bought this house under the name Anthony Kingsley." He paused and it seemed like the good doctor was about to speak more about himself. But he grew quiet. "How are you feeling, Clarice?"

"You don't seem like an Anthony Kingsley, Dr. Lecter." Clarice said, her cerulean eyes narrowing upon the man. She felt absolutely at ease with Dr. Lecter, she even struggled to call him Dr. Lecter and not Hannibal, which would have been completely inappropriate.

"How are you feeling, Clarice? I do not like asking twice." Hannibal still kept his icy cool composure. Clarice felt obliged to respond; the man had saved her life and was being very civil to her, not to her surprise.

"Fine, Dr. Lecter. I feel fine. Thank you, for….stitching me up." She paused and searched his face; he seemed content with her answer. He nodded, as to accept her thanks and met her cerulean eyes again with his maroon and she struggled to keep her composure. "Do you have any clothes; I don't feel comfortable being practically naked in a room with a man that is hardly my lover." Amusement danced upon Hannibal Lector's face.

"Of course, Clarice. How indecent of me to offer to clothes in the beginning, you must forgive me Clarice or I just will not be able to live with myself." He responded and moved from his feet from the armchair. As he left the room, Clarice did not struggle to leave the bed; she moved her legs over the bed, to get into a sitting position. The room was immaculate. Everything was in its proper place, the floor did not need sweeping and the furniture did not need a dusting. The carpet that the bed rested on did not need a cleaning and Clarice thought about checking under the bed, there ought to be some dust bunnies under there. She smiled, amused.

The doctor arrived back to the room within minutes and in his hands were another dress, similar to the one he gave her years ago. The dress was of the purest ivory and contrasted her Italian tan, she noticed. Its neckline plunged like the last dress and had to be tied around the neck like a halter. It had an open back and came just above the knee. _I ought to be naked, wearing this blasted thing. _She thought bitterly and placed the dress on as he left the room. The shoes were high stilettos and white, very elegant. She expected it from Hannibal Lector. He also provided her with a comb to brush her hair, which she did. She moved over to the full profile mirror and studied her self. The dress suited her wonderfully, and she couldn't deny that the man had wonderful taste. Clarice's eyes moved over to the dresser and noticed something on the top, a diamond necklace with a note attached.

_Dearest Clarice, _

_I wonder if you will pay attention to the dresser to see this note and see the necklace. Please put it on, I imagine it will look beautiful on you. We will be having dinner shortly and I hope you bring your appetite. I wonder if you feel fear or possibly attraction. I told you once, long ago, that I loved you. Not that long ago but long enough to make it a memory. You replied, 'Not in a thousand years.' I really do hope you take back those words, because I will be waiting, Clarice. _

_Did the lambs stop screaming, Clarice? Or do you now scream because of something else?_

_Regards, _

_ H. Lector M.D_

_P.S. I really wanted to write Love but I couldn't bring myself to do it._

Clarice turned a bright crimson and brought her hand up to her neck, touching it slightly. She could almost feel those diamonds icing her throat. She picked them up and didn't realize how beautiful they were. _The lambs did stop screaming, Lector. And I don't scream because of something else. _He was wrong. Clarice had become stronger, the lambs did silence and her sleeping had remained quiet. But she wasn't sure if that was true, she hoped. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction. She attached the diamonds to her neck and gazed at herself in the mirror. She was looking into the mirror of a murderer, she realized suddenly, and turned away quickly on her heels. Suddenly, realization sunk into her. She was going to dinner with Hannibal Lector and she couldn't help the tear forming at the corner of her eye. Paul Krendler, she remembered what happened to him. She leaned against the wall and shut her eyes tight. Would he do that to her again?

The dinning room was easy to find and Clarice Starling couldn't help gasp at the beauty and elegance of it. Everything was so neat, so clean, so elegant. Hannibal Lector really was a man of refined taste. He sat at the head of the table and he smiled deeply. His maroon eyes glazed over and Clarice sat down nervously next to him. She couldn't deny the hunger in her stomach.

"Clarice, you look splendid. A true vision. Better then I had imagined, Clarice." Lector said quietly and moved his hand to touch her own. She couldn't help but flinch and retreat from his touch. He said nothing, and turned to the platters that lied on the table.

"Our entrée includes a roasted duck with the side dishes of stuffed mushrooms, escargot and octopus. Some wine, Clarice?" He was being absolutely truthful, not a single dish contained anything belonging to a human and Clarice relaxed considerably. She nodded and he tipped her glass slightly and poured quite expensive red wine into her glass.

"Thank you." Clarice said quietly while sipping on her wine. "Why are you doing this?"

"You know why, Clarice. I've said it before, Clarice. How I love to say that name. Clarice. I've killed for that name, for you. I've only killed for one other person. Clarice, it's foolish of me to say so for the first time I did say it, you slapped me in the face. And you know it."

She was quiet and she was turning increasingly red. Clarice didn't know how she felt about this man, she truly did not know. She wanted to reach out and touch his face, wanted to know how he felt. She wanted and was beginning to know the man behind the monster. _Who are you, Hannibal? _

"Hannibal…" She muttered and was quite surprised that she began to drop the formalities. Hannibal looked surprised and watched her for a moment. He was fighting the temptation to kiss her. He's done it once before and she kissed him back, he liked to remember that detail. Maybe there was an ounce of attraction to him within her. He'd liked to hope so. "Hannibal, tell me about yourself."

This question threw the doctor off guard, he looked at her puzzled. No one has ever asked to know about him. So why did she? Hannibal placed his fork down slowly and sighed deeply. It was a painful story for Hannibal Lector and he thought about it everyday. He thought about Mischa, about his first love, about those bastards. Those bastards that made him what he was today and took away Mischa. They, they were everything to Hannibal. He sometimes wished they were still alive so he could take it all away again.

"This is hardly a fairy tale, Clarice. I lived in Lithuania for the beginning of my life. I had a mother and a father. And a little sister, Mischa. We were aristocrats, we were powerful and we could have had anything. The war was coming closer to us and it eventually claimed my parents." He paused and looked at her. "The rest of this is by no means, a fairy tale, I remind you, Clarice. Do you still want to hear?"

_Do you still want to talk about it, Hannibal? _Clarice thought and nodded. She wanted to know the man.

"I was no more then a child, an infant at that time. I was ten and my sister was considerably younger. We didn't know what to do, Clarice. So we stood, we stood and waited in the house that we used to live. We survived on what little food we could forage but then, then those bastards took her away. Six men. They came, they came and tied us up. Cannibalism, they relied heavily on that in that part on the war and country." Clarice inhaled sharply; she knew the rest of the story without being told. She felt a longing to comfort this man, to reach out and stroke his arm. She did, she placed her arm on a muscular forearm. He looked at her and couldn't help but give a weak smile.

"After Mischa was…killed….I remained in that house that they left me to die in. It became an orphanage, Clarice, and I lived there as a child. I eventually escaped to my Aunt." Clarice searched his maroon eyes and as he opened his mouth to continue the morbid story, she placed her neat, manicured hand against his crimson lips, shushing him. He grew quiet and she removed her finger.

"So why was it that you asked, Clarice? Is it perhaps, you care more about me then you let on?" Hannibal was never arrogant, and he wasn't being so at that moment. Clarice knew that and she couldn't help turned to a shade of bright red. _God, more then you know. _Clarice couldn't help thinking. She was acting so…out of character. She knew this as did Hannibal. The silence was growing longer and he grinned, and cocked his head to the side. And Clarice muffled a chuckle. He was reading her, searching her face for a reaction. And he got one. What he said earlier was absolutely true.

"Ah, I've read you correctly, Clarice. Tell me, Clarice, did you leave the force because of me?"

"Stop being such an arrogant bastard, Lecter. How about you tell me something? Why have you become the very people that made you this way? Why have you become like those men?"

For the first time around Lecter, Clarice felt in control. He winced and rose to his feet. She remembered that night at Chesapeake Bay where he had said, _Tell me Clarice, would you ever say to me, stop? If you loved me, you'd stop?_ Those were the words that started all this. Clarice had again hurt him, she regretted those words. She hadn't meant it but she was so confused. This man, this man was ripping her to shreds. She knew she was in love, she felt it that night when he had kissed her and she had kissed him back. She didn't see a monster, she saw a man. But for the first time, she felt as if she had hurt Hannibal. He was quiet and moved his hand to her cheek and left it there to feel the softness of her skin.

She felt her skin tingle; Clarice looked up into his maroon eyes. They didn't seem like cruel eyes and his hands didn't seem like hands that would kill.

"You asked me a question, Clarice. And I intend to answer you, if I didn't, that would be rude and I hate rude people. I've become like them because they made me that way. You don't know the whole story, Clarice. They ate her. And in turn, I gave them that similar punishment. But…human flesh is similar to chocolate. It is addicting."

Clarice stood up quickly and her heart rate quickened. She hadn't expected such a reaction from herself. Again and again that disturbing and twisted scene kept returning to her. _How were his brains, you monster! _She was increasingly becoming more angry and Hannibal couldn't help notice how beautiful she was when her face flushed red with anger.

"You really are a monster." Again, she didn't mean that and Hannibal knew that. And Clarice knew that he knew.

"Am I, Clarice? If you really think so, you have the power to turn me in and leave. You are a murderer as well. Do you not remember the muskrat farm, Clarice? Or how about that despicable Jame Gumb? Remember him, Clarice? What about that mother? Remember her child? Do you remember, Clarice!"

"Those- those weren't murders, Hannibal. You ungrateful bastard, I killed those two men for you! They were not murders; it was in the line of duty as was Jame Gumb as was that woman, that drug dealer mother. She could have killed me."

"Was it, Clarice? I'm not taking about Jame Gumb or that mother but those two men. Any other agent would have left me for the muskrats but not you. Why is this, Clarice? Am I really the monster you say I am? Do you really believe that, Clarice?" He was so sure of himself, Clarice studied his face.

"Tell me Clarice, would you ever say to me, stop? If you loved me, you'd stop?" He says those words so slow. So slow and Clarice cursed him silently for that.

"I think…I think I would say that, Hannibal."

"See, was that so hard, Clarice? So I suppose we are on an even ground here. I love you and you love me. Is this accurate, Clarice?"

She however did not say anything to this statement. They were both on their feet and she moved towards him, her hand flat up against his chest. She felt his steady heartbeat and felt the wiry muscle beneath his white shirt. His hand had traveled to the small of her back and she moved closer to him. He leaned in closer, and his lips brushed up against hers for a moment. She could feel him smiling, like a real smile. A smile of joy and happiness and not one of amusement. Hannibal pressed against her harder, his mouth explored her own and wasn't too brash to slip his tongue between her lips. Clarice couldn't imagine what was happening as did Hannibal. Finally, they pulled away and his face was flushed.

"I suppose that it was accurate, Clarice." He continued and looked disappointed at the meal he had slaved over for them. "It's a shame that all this would go to waste."

"'Fraid not, Hannibal. You forget that I have just been shot, last thing I ate or even consumed was a espresso at 3 pm yesterday and it must be around 8, now. I'm absolutely starving." She grinned at sat in her previous seat. Hannibal watched her from brilliant maroon eyes, and removed the covering of one of the larger platters.

"Bon appetite, my dearest Clarice."

I really like this. This is my first Hannibal fic and perhaps will go on to be greater. If it is, it will mainly talk about their life in Tuscany and yeah. I think I kept Hannibal mostly in character but I'm not sure about Clarice. If the reviews are positive, I'll consider it making it a story.


	2. Dracula and his Bride

Thank you SO MUCH for the WONDERFUL REVIEWS! I've continued this because well, it seems like you want me to.

_Lucifer Lazaro _- Thank you for my very first Hannibal review! I liked it as a oneshot but I always like it like this.

_Blood-Sucker-1428_ – Thank you 3 I really thought Clarice wasn't in character but thank you for reassuring me.

_MonMaskedAnge__ – _Thank you and I updated for you well all of you

_PrincessArtemistheprotector__ –_ Thank you for the decent critique. Hm, now that you say it. I don't like that part of the story at all. Thank you for your wonderful comments. It was harder to keep him in character this time.

_Erik's Sweet Intoxication__ –_ Oh wow. I really….wow. Thank you so much. Most enjoyable Hannibal fic? Lmao, I lol'ed at that. But thank you so much. I'm really flattered and honored that you think so.

Well, here's the fic. Basically, Hannibal just wants to hear 'I love you' from Clarice. Kinda fluffy.

**The Man Behind the Monster**

_**Dracula and his Bride**_

It's been six months, Hannibal remembered. Six months since he saved her life for the second time. It was two years and seven months since that night in Chesapeake Bay, the night, uncharacteristically Hannibal regretted. That was always the gap between the two of them, Clarice and him. He was very open about his feelings, however she was not. Hannibal Lecter knew that she was apprehensive, she was nervous to admit her love. And he was certain it was there or Clarice would have left already. He sighed, and let his maroon eyes move over her sleeping form. He noted the way she took even, short breathes as her chest bobbed up and down. He noted how her cerulean eyes moved unconsciously underneath her closed lids, a signal that she was dreaming. Hannibal wanted to reach out and stroke her face and perhaps her brunette hair with auburn highlights. But he didn't. He kept his arms at his side, drumming his fingers on top of a reddish colored book cover. Looking down, he read the title out loud. And he, himself, wondered why he bought such a book. And then he wondered why it was written in the first place.

_**Dracula and his Bride**_

_The truth about infamous serial killer Doctor Hannibal 'the Cannibal' Lecter and the woman who gave up everything for him. _

Hannibal Lecter growled, Clarice had left the force that day after Chesapeake Bay and a week later, she moved to Rome, looking for him. Strangely enough, 2 years after moving there, she caught the cannibal in the flesh. Actually, he caught her. It was ironic how he again saved her life after that bastard agent shot her. Hannibal grinned, he had paid though. He had certainly paid. He could almost feel the warmth of that agent's blood lingering on his fingers and feel the agent's breathes shortening on Hannibal's neck. That night was a victory, a success for the doctor. Never, never was someone to treat Clarice with such disrespect. Ever. His eyes move back over the crimson book and ran his fingers over the title, his jaw clenching with anger. He felt enraged at such an obscene outlook on their life together. He had seen the filthy literature in Tuscany's local English bookshop, a place he frequented often. Despite his high intelligence and talent for languages, he never quite picked up how to read and write Italian. He remembered his cold maroon eyes staring up at him from the bookshelf. It intrigued him how different he seemed in the picture and in the flesh. Many had admitted feeling that exact thing before. One of them being Clarice Starling. He moved his eyes to the left. And then it was her, soft cerulean eyes almost glittering from the picture and gazing up at him. They both look unrecognizably different in public, thanks to wigs and makeup and disguises. The book would not be much of a problem for them in Tuscany or at least Dr. Lecter had hoped not. He remembered gliding his fingertips upon her face printed on the cover and realized sadly, that he loved her more then thought. He snapped back to the present and sighed deeply, he had purchased the literature hours ago, during the afternoon before the opera and never had much courage to look beneath the cover.

In truth, Clarice had given up little for him. She gave up- what, a job at the bureau where most of the agents had hated her for her so called 'betrayal.' She did nothing of the sort and that enraged Hannibal. They hated her for getting a little too close to the serial killer they despised, the monster, the outcast. Clarice gave up a single thing for him and that was Agent Mapp. Hannibal knew Clarice missed that Agent back in Baltimore, but she had chosen a life. A life with him and she couldn't turn back now. It only made Hannibal wonder even more, why ex Special Agent Clarice Starling lay in their bed, left Baltimore to live with him in Tuscany but still hasn't admitted her true feelings. Hannibal felt himself doubting her.

Perhaps she was just fascinated with him, Hannibal had considered that.

Or she hated the bureau so much in fact, she scuttled off to the man they hated the most. And had betrayed them.

All of these were perfectly good explanations but this did not please the doctor. He moved his head and gazed at the moonlight that leaked through the large windows that he could watch Tuscany through. He had not drawn the curtains closed tonight for he had a hunch; he was going to be gazing out them that night, unable to sleep. She stirred in her sleep and he lifted his maroon eyes quickly to see what was wrong. A nightmare, he realized quickly and went to his feet to move closer to the bed and the stirring ex-agent. He leaned up against the bed, above her now, gazing and watching while stroking her cheek softly. Soothing her, caressing her back to sleep. He hated to see her in pain and he knew what she was dreaming about. Those lambs. _My Clarice. Beautiful, sweet Clarice. Why do the lambs trouble you, my sweet? Do I still trouble you? Do you know I could never hurt you, my darling? I hope so. _Hannibal thinks this as he caresses her cheek, he hasn't stopped and her eyelids start to flutter open. Was he her lamb? He couldn't help but wonder. The nightmares had come back; they were gone when Clarice had first started living in Tuscany. But they were they back? Did he frighten her?

She utters a single word. "Anniba..." Her voice seems to soften him, caress him.

Hannibal Lecter felt if he had been slapped, her voice, muttering that word drew him back to the past. Anniba. Muttered and under her breath, she had lost the 'h' and 'l' as Mischa had when she was first introduced to speaking. Her voice screaming his name and he couldn't help but picture her perfect face and look down at Clarice, putting Mischa's face on her body. The feeling of heartstrings being pulled and snapped it's a horrible thing to feel; to feel as if your very core was splitting in half was equally as if painful. Dr. Hannibal Lecter felt both of these things and he felt tears forming in his eyes. Quickly, he wiped them away and pushed the thought of Mischa away. He regained his composure as quickly as it left him.

His hand retreats from her cheek and she rolls over and he returns back to his arm chair. He felt guilty that he awoke the beauty from her slumber.

Tuscany has treated them well. No one had questioned them and he still wondered if the FBI still looked for her. He doubted their search for Hannibal 'the Cannibal' Lecter would ever end. Perhaps even past death. They believed he was nothing more then a vampire, much less then a man. And on equal terms of a monster. He seemed immortal in their eyes, and Hannibal knew that. Hannibal wasn't afraid of much, but he was afraid of losing her. It was an odd feeling but it was there. _Anniba. _Like he lost her.

He moved to his feet, and walks toward the windows that were in fact doors leading out to the Tuscan veranda. He opened them slowly and a gust of wind causes the curtains to go wild, flailing and moving with the wind. Hannibal leans against the rail, and allows his eyes to drink in the beauty that was Tuscany. He always liked Italy, as did Clarice. It was so classy and refined and still contained that subtle hometown charm. From a far away corner, Hannibal could hear the faint hum of instruments playing for change; the music reverberated through the moonlit streets.

He heard a voice from behind him and whirls around to face her melodic voice. She wears only her silk nightgown that he had purchased for her. He, however, is still in his suit that he had worn to the Opera that had visited earlier that evening. Her face is flushed pale and her eyes seem distant and glazed over. She doesn't seem angry but perhaps, a subtle sadness. It was unlike Clarice.

"Trouble sleeping?" Clarice frowns and Hannibal notices a neat, reddish book in her hand and the two faces that were so familiar to him plastered on. On the top, in a bold font was printed the title he read out loud moments before.

"Why do you have this, Hannibal?" She speaks in a mere whisper. She's frightened. Of being found out, being called his 'bride' or of him, Hannibal is not sure. He doesn't know which answer he prefers either.

"Curiosity, I suppose. It killed the cat, you know. Wouldn't you like to know, Clarice, what they think of us? Aren't you curious?" He answers her quickly.

"No. I don't give a fuck about those lowlifes." She says this quickly and rather fiercely. Hannibal was actually surprised at the fierceness and perhaps anger in her usual placid tone. "Have you read it?" She says this much more softly and moves closer to him. She shivers slightly and he removes his suit coat and drapes it upon her shoulders. She can't help but smile.

"No, would you, Clarice?"

"I don't know, Hannibal. Wait, what am I saying; no, I definitely would not. I told you, I don't give a damn about them. Those bastards probably think I'm dead anyway and I doubt if they are still looking for me. They probably hope I'm dead anyway."

"That's only because they don't realize how wonderful you are, Clarice." She can't help blushing as he brings her fingertips to his lips. He softly moves his lips of them, one at a time in small kisses and caresses. Clarice felt her stomach tighten. She lifted her cerulean eyes at him and he seemed, troubled and tense. The maroon in his eyes gave it away, she pulled her hand away from his lips and he inhaled sharply.

"What's wrong, Hannibal?" Ah, the Doctor is caught off guard. He raises an eyebrow inquisitively, articulately but that doesn't hide it. He's a bit disappointed in himself that he hadn't veiled his emotions correctly. Clarice Starling saw right through him. That wasn't usual or common for the doctor.

Hannibal hated to lie and he wasn't going to at this moment. He was merely searching for the right words to use. Hannibal Lecter didn't speak before thinking and that caused a silence between them. She placed the book on the table on the veranda and extends her arm to caress the Doctor's face as he did to her moments before as she slept. He lifted his maroon eyes at her and caught her brilliant blue ones. She couldn't help but gasp. The effect was magnificent. She never saw the maroon of his eyes so full of emotion.

"Hannibal?" He had not answered yet and panic was fluttering up in her chest. _Clarice, my sweet, I don't even know how to tell you. _

"Do you love me, Clarice? Perhaps a bit blunt, my love, but no lies. I do not want you to lie, Clarice. I've always been truthfully to you and I would like similar treatment." Clarice for a moment was speechless and moved her eyes over the moonlit washed Tuscany.

"Why are you asking me this, Hannibal? And I would never lie to you. I want you to know that." She moves her eyes back at the 'so called monster'. He was nothing of the sort and Clarice desperately wanted the rest of the world to know this. He was no vampire or Dracula and he was nothing compared to a monster. She could think of monsters, but Hannibal Lecter did not come up as one. Paul Krendler was closer to a monster then Hannibal would ever be.

"Answer the question, Clarice." He growled but she feels no fear.

"Is this what has been bothering you, Hannibal? That I might not be in love with you? That you are just a mere fascination or perhaps a school girl infatuation? You think I just _like_ you, Hannibal? I thought you were the guy that knew how _everybody_ felt." She paused and looked at him, staring straight into his reddened irises. "I guess I was wrong."

"Why won't you answer me, Clarice? Perhaps it is a mere fascination. I know what I feel for you is not. Answer the question, Clarice." His tone has become menacing and for the first time, she feels fear. It's an awkward feeling, especially with Hannibal. It wasn't the fear of her eventual death that many had felt before their untimely deaths but the fear of losing the only thing that made her life worth living. Quite cheesy and cliché but it was true.

"Yes…yes. I believe I do, Hannibal. And I'm actually a bit disgusted that you believe what I have for you is merely fascination. I have absolutely no fascination whatsoever for Hannibal 'the Cannibal' Lecter." She says this sharply and surprise and hurt washes over the cannibal's face.

"Clarice, have the lambs stopped screaming yet? I'm not so sure, Clarice. Despite what you think, I'm not all knowing. I hear you, at night. Stirring in your sleep. Is it because of those dreaded lambs? But then, I stroke you face, run my lips over your skin. And you stop. Why, Clarice?" She realized it. What he wanted, he quickly pins her against the rail and she feels his hot, steady breathing on her face.

"Because I love you, Hannibal. You asked me once-" He interrupts her, Hannibal knows what the next line is. It's like a cleverly written script written by himself. He knows her so well. He's content with her answer, by the way. Actually, he is ecstatic. Before that sweet kiss that is coming, he must deliver the script.

"Tell me, Clarice. Would you ever say to me stop? If you loved me, you'd stop. I suppose that is the line you are looking for." She nods and he can't help but smile. "What would your answer be this time, darling? I surely hope it isn't what it previously was."

"At first, I wouldn't play into that game, Hannibal. Mind tricks, I know you. But then…then….I would think about it. I even think I would answer. If it were now, that is. If you asked that question at this precise moment. And….I think my answer would be, if you loved me you would stop. And what would you do, Hannibal?"

"I believe I would stop. I'd do anything for you, Clarice."

He presses his body up against her delicate one, his lips, they touch hers softly then he moves in more. They were exploring each other the best way another being can explore another. The tongue shooting out like a pistol, moving within her mouth. She can't help but moan into his mouth, the sound muffled. It was a kiss that was only in the movies, in stories. It was everything Clarice and Hannibal thought it would be. It was rather magnificent and amazing. It was passionate and romantic. It was like the very first time.

"Okey dokey then," He muses as they pull apart. "How was that, my bride?"

"Wonderful, my dear Dracula." And he laughs, for the first time _really_ laughs.

Considerably shorter then my last chapter and written in a different style. Basically, this is going to be a series of oneshots mostly about their life in Tuscany. However, I may change the scene if Agent Mapp gets closer. If I do change the scene, I'd like to see some requests on where they should go.

I hope you guys enjoyed, 'The Man Behind the Monster' so far. I've certainly enjoyed writing it. Oddly enough, I think Clarice is harder to write then Hannibal.

Well, I'll be taking requests to where they should move if Mapp gets closers. It won't pull into a story but I think you know the gist of it.

I wrote this actually a while ago but I never uploaded it. I did a little editing and I like it this way around. God, how corny was that kiss, lmao. Well tell me what you think!

Review!


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